Go Down To The Lonesome Valley
by Danny Barefoot
Summary: How Rue lived her life, and what it cost her. Even if she can win the 74th Games, does she want to become the Mockingjay? AU, I don't own the Hunger Games, please R & R & enjoy. AN: old chpt 2 and 3 remerged, current chpt 5 rewritten.
1. A Death

My name is Rue Turner. I lived in District 11, with my folks and sibs and friends. But I can't go back.

–0–

**The Past: Before The Hunger Games**

I was twelve, sneaking home from the fields where I'd lifted a little corn and fruit for my sibs. Hidden by the reedy bank sloping down to the river, I ran into Billy Joe Ewell, heading back from the same kind of jaunt. We startled each other in the moonless night, then laughed about it softly, and lay down by the river, near an apple tree. He asked how were my folks, how were Jim, Holly, Pet, little Albert and the new baby? I asked after his sick Ma and little sisters–I loved how much he cared for them. We chuckled over all kinds of silly things, and I pretended to watch the stars. Waited for his smile to shine in the dark and make my cheeks burn.

Billy Joe was a quiet boy, kind of intense. He'd lost an arm years ago in an automatic cotton gin. At fourteen _they'd_ already whipped him twice in the square for food stealing. His voice was low and calm, that night. All peace, nothing bitter. When he smiled, I wanted to tell him I thought he was the nicest, bravest boy in town. The Reapings were in a week. I could've told him, but I never did.

–0–

I was eleven, trudging home at 3 a.m.–it was harvest, all the kids worked nights in the orchard. Then my friend Martin pulled on my sleeve. He was real simple, but he had a knack for happiness. Even if a dog, a cat, or a lovely-voiced Mockingjay can't talk like you or I, they can truly be the nicest friends. Anyway, we ducked down into a cane break, and he pulled what he wanted to show me out of his pocket. Pushed it at me, grinning. It was one of the night-seeing glasses _they'd_ handed out for apple picking in the dark. The ones _they'd_ told us to hand back each and every morning, because they were worth ten of us together.

I pushed the glasses away, leapt up and ran. Just as Peacekeepers strode out of the gloom, bawling at all the kids to line up. They pulled Martin out, found the glasses he'd been playing with, and shot him dead.

There was screaming and chaos–no grown-up knew whose kid had been shot in the dark. As the Peacekeepers blared through a megaphone that this was what happened to troublemakers, I grabbed hold of my sibs in the crowd. We ran to find our Pa, and he hugged us all warm and tight, thanking the Lord we were safe. As the eldest, I had to wait till last–no one could see my tears.

He was just a nice, simple boy, and I'd run and left him. I could've snatched the glasses, thrown them over a fence, run away with them. Maybe I'd have died, and left my family alone. Maybe poor Martin could've lived. But I can't go back.

–0–

I was nine when my sister Pet was in bed a week with fever. She'd dreamed of eating strawberries one day, so I stole some from _their_ greenhouses by digging under a barbed fence in the night. When my Papa saw us eating them, he dragged me out behind the house, threw the strawberries in the privy, and told me to bend over.

"Pa, no! Why shouldn't we, when we grow all their food–!"

"Quiet, girl!" He threw his big red face from side to side–I realised he was scared, scared anyone might hear me, "The good Lord says it wrong, what you did. _They_ whip you in the square for taking such fancy food, so bad you never climb no tree again."

"But, Pet, she sick, she need food–I don't want her to die like Daisy did, Pa!"

"Just leave those things to me, and your mama. Whatever happens, we gonna get through it as a family. But I'm never letting you get into trouble with _them._ Rue-girl, I couldn't bear to see it…"

"If you and Mama cared if we lived or starved, you'd never have had so many of us!"

My face burnt. I wished I could pull the words back into my mouth, but I couldn't, and Pa threw me over his knee and gave me a dozen of the worst; I howled and howled. All my sibs were really sorry for me, but I couldn't look them in the eye. Couldn't forget I'd almost wished they were never born, but it was only because I loved them. I wished they'd never had to work harvest day and night with fingers bleeding, or live for months on end with hollow stomachs ripe for sickness.

Pet got better, but baby Frank got ill and died just after that. He wasn't even one yet, just older than Daisy had been. I started stealing corn from the fields, so my other five sibs had enough to keep them strong. My parents never knew. Two times a Peacekeeper caught me, but let me go with a beating. I lied and told Mama I'd fallen out a tree.

–0–

When I was seven, I bust my arm falling from an apple tree. I let a little squeal out, before Jim and Holly dropped down round me, and I had to clam up in front of my sibs. I stared through my own teary little fog, searching across the meadow for Mama and Pa. He was struggling with another two workers, wanting to run and hold me–but if _they_ caught him stopping work, he'd surely get punished. Mama was stood still, watching and waiting for me to get up.

"Rue! Sis!"

Jim and Holly were blubbing, alone in the harsh sun of that terrible great orchard, with their big sister fallen. I managed to smile up at them, and got to my knees before passing out.

My head went swimmy and hot, even thinking about the next apple harvest–but _they_ said I had to work and pick the apples. All the kids in District 11 had to. So did Holly and Jim, and they were afraid. I had to shim up the tallest trees, the longest branches, stay higher for longer than anybody, so they wouldn't be.

Of course I loved it up there, in the cool air with next to nothing between me and the sky. I could leap from branch to branch, just to feel the rush of breath like flying. Or rest in the top branches, on the sharp-smelling bark as warm as my Grandma's cheek. I could watch all the sparrows and Mockingjays flit through air so rich with apple-scent they were almost swimming. Hear all the faint, low songs from the pickers in the golden fields below us. Songs to keep our hearts alive, even when there was nothing for them to do but break. Songs like a good spirit in your breath. When I sang the Mockingjays listened and all the fieldhands found weary grins. My Pa always said, I should never let nothing in this world stop me from being happy, doing good and trusting the good Lord to take care of us all.

So I learnt to climb higher than any kid in the District, so all my sibs would be happy to have such a sister. I helped Holly to the clinic when she twisted her leg. I slipped all of them apples to make their quota up, and told Jim I'd tan his hides if I caught him stealing. I got them all singing to take their minds off it, when we'd got no food at all. Whenever Pet was ill, I sat up with her all night. I helped Mama nurse Daisy and Frank, though they both of them still died. I climbed high, and I learnt a lot about falling down.

* * *

**The Present. 74th Hunger Games: Day One **

I couldn't go back. Not trapped in that roaring prison of a hovercraft, left arm hurting from the tracer. Headed to the Hunger Games. I couldn't flee in my mind to dreams of home and sunshine. I knew I had to be _here_, in those straps. I had to keep watch, keep ready, run, climb, hide. Stay alive until everyone else was dead, and then I could…

Go back, go home. But I couldn't hardly imagine it. There were so many tears when I left them behind. Pa, Mama, Billy Joe, Grandma and all my sibs. It's almost, _almost_ certain that I'll never see their darling smiles again. I glanced over the shaking aisle to where the Girl on Fire was strapped in. I tried to smile, but she stared straight ahead, not seeing me. I wished then that we could've been friends, if only we'd met some other way. But she didn't look too friendly right then. Just strong and fierce. Like a Victor.

Thresh looked even less friendly than Katniss did. Other kids on the hovercraft looked like they were scared, and trying not to show. I'm almost sick from wanting home, but I'm not so scared. I've known I could be shot or crippled with a lash tomorrow, since I was nine. I still sneaked and stole, so my sisters and brothers could live. For them, I couldn't ever be scared. And I'd not ever died yet, so why start now?

Maybe they were taking us somewhere with trees. I could hop up there, and be still among the leaves, with the warm bark on my hands and my cheek. That wouldn't be so bad a place to end. Then the Lord would carry me up to heaven on his wings, with Daisy, Frank and Grandpa. I could dream of my home forever, there'd be nothing to make me afraid. Nowhere higher to climb. Nothing to do at all.

I almost screamed out, I hated that hovercraft seat with the straps so much. They were pinning me when I wanted to jump right up and run for dear life.

* * *

**74th Hunger Games: Day Nine**

Katniss's plan was that I set three green-wood fires, to draw the Careers from their camp, so she could destroy their supplies. But they must've smelled a rat. Running through the woods to light the third fire, I heard crunching leaves as they came. I had to shim up the nearest yew tree quick as a squirrel. I stayed mousy still and quiet, but they found some tracks I'd left. Then they circled round below with their shining weapons, and finally saw me. That Clove was just about to sling a knife at my head, when the blast went off. All the Careers rushed back to their camp, but I just curled up in those branches, weeping with my hands on my ears.

Only the Games-people could make a bang like that. It wasn't enough that my Katniss was the bravest, lovingest girl in the nation. They couldn't let an uppity pauper from Twelve win their stupid Games. Maybe a richer District bribed them, but now Katniss was dead. I'd never see her again, not even her body. With a blast like that there'd be nothing left–I didn't care who heard me howling.

I'd started the Games ready to hide away and await the end–I could stand being alone, at first. When I saw Katniss again she was injured and trapped up an oak alone, but she was fighting. Fire, arrows or poison couldn't stop her. And I knew she was kind, however tough she looked. Just as quick-in-spirit and gracious as the Mockingjays that flitted about when I sang for them in the orchards–like the golden pin on her shirt. A big sister cares for her little sib with all the love she's got, I can swear to that. Katniss gave me all that love and strength, but now it was gone. I couldn't ever go back; it was so impossible I could hardly think how my home or family existed. There was nothing but the Games, killing and choking all else to leave everyone alone in the dark. I felt so alone that night I didn't care whether I lived or died.

–0–

I stayed curled in that tree until the night, when the anthem played, and the dead faces came up in the sky. I could hardly believe that her face wasn't there. Thank the Lord, she was alive! But I knew Katniss could be in trouble, I couldn't lead anyone to wherever she was. I just had time to shift hiding places, jumping between branches to a nearby oak, before the Careers came back to prowl round for me some more. I stayed up the tree all night, heart hammering through my chest. In the morning I waited half an hour after all of them gave up and cleared out. Then I edged down the oak, ready to whistle the signal to Katniss that I was safe.

But those Careers weren't so dumb. One of them had crept back and hidden himself, waiting for me to break cover. I might've seen a glint of steel in the bushes, before fear shot through me like a bird–I leapt away from the tree trunk, hit the ground. A net was sailing past the oak at me, too wide to dodge, but it caught on a branch, then I was running and screaming Katniss's name.

It happened so fast. I flew through the wood, with him crashing after in long-leg bounds. Then the arrow hit his back, I threw myself down. His dying, wild spear-cast shot over my head and quivered in an oak.

"Rue! Are you safe–?"

"Yes, I'm okay! Oh Katniss, you're–"

I was too weak to get up as Katniss ran to me. She'd shot the Career, the tall District One boy, from near to seventy metres through the trees. She held me with all the strength in her arms, choked out her little sister's name. I was going to tell her how scared I'd been without her, when our bodies jerked. The District One Career had raised himself up without a sound, buried his knife in her back.

He groaned, fell on top of us both. After I struggled out from under, I pulled the arrow from his back. Drove it so hard through his neck, I cut my own hand.

"KATNISS!"


	2. A Reaping

**74th Hunger Games: Day Nine**

The hole in Katniss's back bled like a stinking river. Rolling that dead Career off her, I fumbled for bandages in his pack. Tried to bind them round her, but they just got soaked in red, along with both my hands. I tied another dressing over it, and another.

"Stop it, Rue." Katniss grasped my wrist, "No good." There was blood on her lips, as she slumped to the ground. I seized her hand in mine, eyes wild.

"No, Katniss! What do I do? Don't leave me alone."

"Just stay with me…like this." A weak grin, "I got the supplies."

"I heard." I squeezed with bloody hands, sobs breaking my face apart. "I'm so sorry, Katniss..."

"Don't. Prim…no, Rue. You have to win. Stay hidden–"

"I can't! What about that boy you like? He's hurt. I'll find him, protect him, for you–"

"No. Only one winner, Rue. Look after yourself. Peeta…oh Peeta."

"Katniss don't cry! You're strong, you don't cry!"

"Yeah. Had to be strong, for Prim. Even for mother. Hunting, haggling, raging at everyone…I did whatever I could do. Can't do it now." Tears ran down Katniss' whitening face, "Oh, Prim, what'll you do? Peeta…Rue, I'm sorry…"

"Shh. They're safe, Katniss. And you'll be…"

I stopped, swallowed miserably. Then I looked in her dark eyes and began to sing. It was an old lullaby Mama would sing to us when we all went hungry to bed.

_"Hush little baby, do not cry,_

_You know your Mama was born to die._

_All my trials, Lord, soon be over._

_All my trials, Lord, soon be over…"_

"Lord…?" Katniss murmured. I gripped her hand, and sang through the tears.

"_The river of Jordan is muddy and cold,_

_Well, it chills the body, but not the soul._

_All my trials, Lord, soon be over…_

_The river of Jordan is raging and wide,_

_But I'll see you again on the other side._

_All my trials, Lord, soon be over…_

_Too late, my dear sister._

_Too late, but…never mind._

_All my trials, Lord, soon be over._

_All my trials, Lord, soon be over…"_

The tears stopped as she died, and a little smile broke through. Her trials on earth were over forever–but I know she didn't care one bit about her own troubles. Just about the ones she left behind. Whether I lived or I died, my trials wouldn't last so long. She smiled for that; it was the only comfort I had in the world.

Trees loomed round me like towers of shadow, impossible to climb, as I squeezed her hand again. I had to get up, protect Peeta, stay alive, Katniss had told me to, died so I could live–but I couldn't do it. She'd been my hope through all the loneliness of the Games, my sister and more than a friend. I was too tired to move from her side, too scared to face any more horrors alone. I was going to stay alone by Katniss' body, until she came back to me or I went where she was.

* * *

**The Past. Reaping Day**.

Near to everyone in District 11 was pouring into the square in their Sunday best. I was old enough for Pa not to hold my hand all the way, in my opinion. But he just wouldn't let go. He was wearing his old dark suit that had got too small. Mama had her best autumn red dress; her dark face was worn raw, but she still looked tough. Among all the parent leading their children to the Reaping, a fair number were white and dark-skinned, like mine. Holly was wearing my old yellow dress; I had a lovely white dress with red print carnations.

"Sis, if you do get picked, what happens–?"

"Shush, Pet. I won't." Two names in hundreds of thousands (I'd got just one single Tesserae, for the new baby). Not point in worrying, whatever happened.

"Jim, spit." My brother duly spat on a hankie for Mama to scrub his face, "How do you get dirty so quick? What would everybody have thought?"

"Good morning, Mister and Missus Turner. And good morning to you, little Rue."

"Morning, Rue Turner! Nice dress you've got there."

I smiled back at all the folk passing by and greeting us. Since I would signal quitting time from the highest apple tree, with amy little whistle my Mockingjay friends carried all over the fields, I guess folk were often pleased to see me. Or maybe just giving a real happy smile whenever you can does a lot for everyone's spirits. Though it's really a little enough thing.

"Hey, Rue!" My best friend Jess nervously hugged me. Pa finally let go of me, as I hugged him goodbye. Then we went to line up, got our fingers pricked, and milled through the crowd of girls in faded dresses to the standing area.

"Well…this is a bit exciting." My friend Ginny; blonde and not real bright, "If you win the games, there's a huge prize. I don't know...but if I did volunteer, and, and win, we could get better medicine for Grandpa. Fix the leaks in our roof..."

"And if you asked out Gus Adams, he'd surely say yes," I whispered; she squealed in delight, "Of course, no one would be pleased if you volunteered to get killed." Ginny buttoned up, suitably chastised.

"Maybe I'll volunteer this year." It was Wilma, an older girl stood aside from us, "Arena can't be worse than here."

Wilma's right eye was grey, the brow above squashed in. Her father had done that; he was a no-good drunk who got drunk enough one day to boast about being a rat for them–a spy who turns in thieves and slack workers. Just after that, Wilma's dad got found accidently drowned one morning in a shallow brook. But no one ever spoke to Wilma or her Mama. Rats are the lowest scum in District 11, and their families get treated the same.

I strode over to Wilma, and put my arms round her waist, "Don't talk that way. Your Mama would be sad if you weren't there, and so would I. Don't talk about volunteering." I threw an arm round Jess's shoulders as well, and glanced back at the others, "Come on, girls. If we've got to stand together, let's _stand together_."

In a cloud of fine dust from the square, all us packed ourselves into the space for twelve year old girls–every year's Reaping heralds a general plague of measles and hair-nits. I caught sight of Billy Joe in his section, and tried to catch his eye, but he was staring straight ahead. I realised I was actually pretty tense.

On the stage before the vast crowd stood Mr Glick from the Capitol. For all that, he was a tubby old man of sixty, with a whitewashed face, and plucked eyebrows. He looked like he hated doing his job, so I thought he couldn't be that bad. Behind him on the wooden stage were Mr Chaff, Mrs Seeder and Mr Bunker, who's nearly eighty; he'd quietly fallen asleep. The Mayor had finished reading the Treaty of Treason. It would be over soon.

"Alright, let's get this over with." Mr Glick scrabbled round the girls' Reaping Ball, squinted at the name. "Rue Turner."

The girls around me fell away so sudden, I could barely keep on my feet. Just stumble out, stare up at that stage.–I was falling and I didn't know how to stop.

"Come on, girl! Get up here." Peacekeepers started coming from all round the square. I dashed up to the stage, and stood shivering in my cotton sunfrock with red print carnations. "Any volunteers?"

Ten thousand folk stood before the stage, staring up at me. I stared back, and not one met my eyes. Jess, Wilma and Ginny almost did, but they broke off in time, gazing off into thin air in agony. The only sound was my baby sister crying.

I kept staring with wide eyes, trying to make them see, I didn't understand. It was two names, I shouldn't have come out, I didn't want to go, there had to be someone...

"Not anyone?" Mr Glick and I might've been alone in the square, "Come, come, no one to take the place of this child? I'm shocked!"

Mr Glick was grinning sourly. I realised then, he didn't hate his job. He hated us, the poor and classless District he'd worked with for fifteen years. He wanted to make my District ashamed, for letting me go without sending another child to her death.

I glared at my friends then, to tell them not to volunteer and give in to his mocking. They were children too, with sweethearts, and families...

I finally looked at my family. The baby was howling. Mama was shushing Pet as she asked again, what did it mean? Pa had his eyes closed, praying to God for someone to volunteer.

"No volunteer. What a shame." Mr Glick sauntered to the boys' names, picked without ceremony, "Thresh Robinson."

A huge boy walked up to the stage, slowly, but heading straight there. Hard, silent eyes, built like an oak tree. Now, the crowd broke into whispers. Maybe this boy could win District 11 a happy year. Maybe God had sent the boy Tribute this year, to make up for the horrible experience they'd had with the girl…

(I could understand them not volunteering. In the Games last year, a sixteen-year old girl from District 11 had gone through something unmentionable that a twelve-year old wasn't in so much danger of)

"That's it then. Odds in your favour etcetera, now shake hands, get inside." Mr Glick had already minced off the stage as Thresh stuck out his paw; he almost blocked out the sun for me. I carefully put my hand in his, took it back quick. The Mayor shook Thresh's hand as well; he wouldn't look at my face.

–0–

Then the Peacekeepers did come for me. I shook like a captured bird as they hustled me into the Justice Building, a wooden room with old chairs and barred windows. It was ten minutes before they let my family pour in.

"Rue, what's going to happen to you?" Pet almost moaned. Holly, who was older, just held me. Jim and Albert stared at me. Mama and Papa weren't crying; they just looked solemn and strong because they had to. like I had to smile for Pet, like I wasn't scared or sad one bit.

"Pet, honey…I'm going away for a while, to the Capitol. You're going to see me on Tee-Vee, with all the Tee-Vee people, and I'll try to come back, soon as I can…"

"No!" Pet threw her skinny arms around Holly and me.

"Sis!" Jim got out, "We don't want you to go."

"I'm sorry, but I've got to. The Capitol…I'm sorry." I tried to print their dear faces on my mind; tried to keep my voice level and strong, "Holly, you help Mama look after the others, until I come back. Jim, you'll have to help her…be strong, ok? All of you be good to Mama and Pa." heads bobbed on a sea of tears."Holly...don't go stealing food like I was always doing, or something bad'll happen to you like this..." I couldn't talk any more, I could barely smile. I hoped Holly could see how sorry I was for stealing, for going against my own folks and giving them grief. But I didn't think she'd keep from stealing food if Pet and the baby needed it. There's just no hope for any of us.

Mama gave us another minute to hold each other. Then she gave the baby to Holly, knelt on the floor in her best red dress and put her hands on my shoulders.. Her worn, dark face looked angry.

"Ma, I'm sorry, I–"

"Rue, stealing or anything, you know we forgive you!" Pa burst out. Mama gave him a quick look, and he fell silent.

"Rue…your father and I did our best to raise you right. We want you to come home to us, very much. But, if the Capitol people tell you that doing anything disgraceful, or plain wrong, will help you survive, don't mind them. Don't trust those godless folk from other Districts, or even that Thresh, I'm sure they'll do anything to save themselves. If someone's going to hurt you, then run and hide as well as you can. Don't try to fight or hurt anyone. Understood?"

"But, what if…they attack me first, or…?"

"You're not listening, girl! If you hide away until everyone else is gone, you could win, and come home safe. But if you forget what's right or wrong, and lose your soul, that's worse than being dead." I must've looked terribly scared, "Oh, Rue. Me and your father will love you, whatever happens."

We hugged quickly, broke away. Pa held my hand, and told me, stay safe; all he could manage. The Peacekeeper on the door rapped out time.

"Pa, I love you, and everybody! Tell Jess, Ginny all my friends, I don't blame them not volunteering. I love them too, they deserve better. Tell them I want to see them one more time–"

"No more visitors!" The guard barked, "Your escort wants to set off early. All of you, get out!"

There was a chaos of wailing, stretching arms and curse-words before three Peacekeepers hauled my family out of the room, slammed and locked the door. Maybe my friends tried to come to me, but none got through. I had a long fifteen minutes curled up on the floor of that cage, before they marched me out and put me on the train.

It was loneliness that was the shock. All the folk who'd shown their care for me every day had been stripped away that second, like losing my own skin. Or if all the pressure of air in that baking little room had drained out into nothing.

That huge boy Thresh would have to kill me to see his family ever again. He'd looked on me with the same closed-up face as everybody in the District when I stood on that stage. All my life, they'd only given me smiles. Now I'd never have a smile from them again. I'd said I'd see my family again, but I'd lied. the longing for them was like barbed wire in my chest, but it wouldn't go away, I'd never see them again before I was dead. I had to go away, and run, hide, die like this alone, without another smile of love again, because there was nothing in the Games but death.

* * *

**The Present: 74th Hunger Games: Day Nine**

I knelt beside Katniss for at least an hour. I'd never see her smile again, but I wouldn't look away from her face, and see the boy that I'd stabbed to death for killing her. She was gone, my family lost, I felt like God Himself was lost, it was so hard for me to pray. No one left I could hope or fight for. No one to help me...

The click made my head flick about, fast as any bird. A little silver container with a parachute had just dropped onto a rock. Distractedly, I reached out and pulled the packet open.

It was bread, warm under my fingers. The type we have at home. I wolfed it down in hunger and it warmed my insides. My family weren't gone, nor was District 11. I'd forgotten they were watching and caring for me, waiting for me to come home–or maybe just keep living, for them. I felt just about alive enough to go on moving.

I shut Katniss's eyes, and found a spring of rosemary to put in her clasped hands. They I knelt and prayed, quiet as I could.

"Dear Lord, thank you I was friends with Katniss. Please help me stay alive now. Please keep Katniss safe in your heaven. Look after her sister and Mama, please. And please protect Peeta, so he can win these Games and go home to them. In Jesus name, Amen"

I gathered all the packs and weapons, and one more little thing, then scurried away. The body pick-up hovercraft roared in behind me with its lights. I knew what I had to do. I had to find Thresh.


	3. A Friend

**The Past. 74th Hunger Games: Training**

"Hey? Thresh?"

I knocked at his room again, until he opened up. Then I stared at his big, still face, shivering in the corridor, in a soft Capitol nightdress. It was my first night in the Training Centre. First night sleeping in the Capitol.

"What?"

"I...I was scared. I've got brothers and sisters, so I never….slept in a bed on my own before."

He'd barely spoken on the train. Then the Stylists had prodded, picked at, pampered and hair-pulled us all day in a frantic rush. I felt sick as a twister, but Thresh showed all the feeling or weakness of a rock. I had to stand there and search his face, before I saw muscles underneath tensing with bitter sorrow.

His room was fresh and white as every room on our floor. He bundled me into an untouched bed, without looking. Then he slumped in a chair.

"Too soft for sleeping." He muttered, staring out the giant window. We were up so high, the lights stretched through miles of darkness. It would've felt like flying, if we'd been free.

I tried to sleep. Then I trotted over to Thresh, wrapped in the bed sheets. I sat in the chair with him, resting on his chest.

"It was too cold. I'm still scared…please?"

With a sigh, he put his arms round me, warm and solid with strength, "Please yourself."

I sighed back. I'd never been so close to a real Boy, but I felt quite peaceful. My own Mama had told me to not trust Thresh, but I'd been alone all day, with Capitol folk chattering in careless voices, staring like I was a bird in a cage. Living alone without trusting, in that weird, glaring world, until it rushed me to my death–it was too bad for me ever to bear

"Oh Thresh. What're you…going to do?"

"In the Games? Try my best to not play them."

He was staring at the dark city of lights in the window–I still felt safe, but didn't dare ask him anything else. Pa always told me to comfort anyone suffering. Anger was clear in Thresh's eyes now. He was suffering like me.

"Thresh? Thank you."

Used to tough beds, we were soon both asleep.

–0–

The next evening, Mrs Seeder and Mr Chaff got us watching old Hunger Games. We'd seen live Games every year, but watching them there scared me more. Mrs Seeder tried to hold me, but I didn't like her. Mr Chaff smelt of so much booze, I wouldn't go near him. So I snuggled against Thresh, as we watched all the death and betraying. Like the night before, he didn't speak much, or push me away. I could sleep on my own that night.

The evenings after that, Thresh started practise-fighting with Mr Chaff. I just heard lots of crashing as Mrs Seeder and me talked in another room. I got to like her a bit. She was kind, just very harsh about it.

"Nobody's won the Games without killing for almost fifty years. The Gamemakers always use mutts or hazards to flush out anyone who does nothing but hide. Yes, Rue, it is unfair. But making friends can be a bigger talent than hiding. You could find a strong ally for protection." Katniss's face flashed in my mind–but somehow I was too nervous to say.

"What about Thresh? He's my District partner, he's strong…"

"True, but he draws attention, and you'll still be needing to hide. Besides, could you kill him at the end?"

"Mrs Seeder, I could never do that."

"Then let yourself be killed so they can win. Just remember that your family will be watching you die. Those are the choices, if you want to ally with anyone, Rue. Think about it."

Thresh still didn't talk, or not to me; we certainly never did the same kinds of training. Somehow his looks got even more silent with passing days.

–0–

The evening after interviews, we took the lift up to our floor; Thresh headed for his room. I went after him, hung on his shirt.

"Thresh, I feel worse than the first night, I can hardly breathe. Please can I sleep with you, once more…?"

He pushed me away. I stared at his giant back, wide-eyed.

"No. You be strong, girl."

"I…can't. I could be strong for my sibs, even for that stupid interview…but what can I do? What can I do, so I don't die? Thresh, I want to–"

"Tomorrow, I gonna run far as I can. Find a place I can defend, and stay there. You better run the other way, Rue. After that, I hope we never see each other alive again!"

He roared out the last words; his eyes were the most fearful thing I'd seen. He was a Tribute. Tomorrow, we were going to the arena, all to kill each other. I ran for my room, threw myself on the great empty bed.

I'd never caught Mama crying; I'd guessed she'd had to cry her tears away. That night I made a start on crying all my weakness out.

* * *

**The Present. 74th Hunger Games: Day 11**

The cornfield stalks were twice again as tall as me, and all kinds of lovely colours. It was like the cornfields at home without the work, a perfect place to lay down and rest forever. But I had to keep going. I pushed through the thick corn, not trying to be quiet. Soon I reached a cleared space around a big stone. Someone had sat against it, he wasn't there now.

"Hey? Thresh?" The corn rustled behind me, like wind, "Just let me talk..."

"Better run, girl."

He could be lynx-quiet. The voice was flat, but I didn't dare turn around.

"Seems you're doing well. You can get food from the corn. You can hear anybody coming, and get behind them. You must have water, if you're still alive. But you need weapons, don't you?"

"Don't tell me what I need."

"I will tell you, there's a spear, a big knife and a bow with arrows, hidden under leaves and earth, about a mile south-east of here. There's twigs nearby in the shape of a bird."

"...for that, I let you go, this time. Now get."

"Don't you want to know how I killed three Careers to get those weapons?"

"Lying."

"No. I killed them with Katniss, the girl from Twelve. We were allies. I showed her she could drop a Tracker-Jacker nest on two of them. Then I used the leaves to cure her stings. She shared meat with me. We slept with each other, two nights. And we blew up all the supplies at the Cornucopia–you must've heard that. That's what allies can do. But then Katniss...it was the Career from One. I killed him, but I couldn't save her.

"With Allies, or without...I don't think I've got much hope. I don't much want to survive with what I've done and seen. But I don't want you to die. I want to help you survive–I want to be with you, Thresh. How about it? You...were kind to me before."

"If the two of us were left. Then what?"

"I told you, I don't want–"

"Don't you say that! SHUT UP!" His hands gripped me, spun me to look him in the face. "I told you not to follow, and you still came! I told you already, I got no help I can give!" His eye blazed against his hollowed face as he shoved me down to the ground. Even Cato hadn't looked so fearful. "Now, get out of my sight! GET!"

I got my breath, and stood up.

"You can't scare me away, Thresh Robinson. Nowhere else I can go. I want to help you go home, whatever happens to me. I don't care if you beat me, use me–"

"–kill you?" Thresh's anguish was a rictus plain on his face, "I could do it. And how I could ever go home, when I'd killed a little girl?"

"You'd be crueller to send me away than kill me right now; after the Tracker-Jackers, they might not kill me quick."

"Do I even have a choice?"

"…that's what you wanted, right? Not to play their Game for them, to be your own man? Well, I made my choice, and I can tell you, it's _hard_. Takes more strength than hiding up a tree, or in a field…Thresh, I'm sorry. Please?"

He glared at me, but I stood and stared back, on the edge of tears. For long minutes, Thresh stared up through the forcefield a mile above us, at the free blue sky. Then he looked back and his eyes were calm as I'd ever seen.

"Okay, Miss Rue. You got yourself a friend, that's a promise. Only I'm not fighting to win this Game, not ever. And sorry for yelling, and pushing you, I shouldn't ever have–"

I went up and hugged Thresh like I had to keep from falling.

"Don't worry. Doesn't God say we should forgive each other?"

"Yeah. And He say we should help each other. I'm sorry, Rue."

He knelt down and put his arms round me. They felt so strong, I went warm all over, with my heart singing away inside.

–0–

Me and Thresh walked quickly through the woods. He found the weapons and pulled them out, whistling softly. I looked away. Now came the hard bit.

"We should get to the riverbank–"

"Rue, I can't climb no trees. Cornfield's safest for both of us."

"Thresh, I found Peeta Mellark by the river yesterday–the Twelve boy? He's our ally too, though he's hurt, too bad to move to the cornfield yet–"

"_What?_" Thresh shot up, towering over me again, "You sly little skunk, you never told me! I'll said I protect you, but what's Twelve to me?"

"Katniss…liked him, and she saved me. And he's hurt. I want to help him, and if you don't, you can leave me for the Careers!"

"Oh no. I promise I protect you, and the Twelve boy is danger. You coming with me, if I gotta drag you on a rope!"

As his hand went for my collar, I turned around and ran.


	4. A love

**The Present. 74th Hunger Games: day 11**

I'd been ready to run but Thresh would've caught me, if he hadn't stumbled in a drift of leaves. Halfway up a tree, he snatched at my feet. I kicked down at his head, and scrambled up to a broad, high branch, out of his reach.

"Sorry! You okay there?" I called down.

"Reckon I'll live." Thresh glared up at me, rubbing his forehead. "But we both die, protecting some crippled Twelve! Chaff and Seeder said it. We let anything slow us, we lose!"

"Well, win or lose, I'm going to help anyone I can who needs it, just like what was right back home. You say God tells us to help each other. Well, He don't just live in Eleven–!"

"Quiet there!"

I nearly choked on my tongue. Steps rustled in the silence, not so distant. Nocking an arrow to Katniss's bow, Thresh sent a steadying look my way that made me feel rather warm. Then he stole off through some thickets, not too quietly.

I hid there nearly an hour. There was one distant thunk, as an arrow split wood. But no cannon, no fighting. if Clove and Cato were ever near, Thresh must've drawn them away. But I was still pretty scared, until the Mockingjays sounded out my quitting-time tune. They'd picking up Thresh's 'okay' signal, from the cornfield's edge. Through all the air above, the rich notes unrolled like a banner–Thresh was safe.

I sang out the same tune, and the Mockingjays all sang out once again, like a crowd of friends wanting to lift my heart to the sky. I couldn't ever belt out a joyful song in that forest Arena, not when I had to hide or die every day. But I felt so happy to be friends with Thresh again, holding my song inside me almost hurt. So I took out the most precious thing I had and fixed it to my jacket. For Katniss' sake, for all my friends' sake, I would fight my own way, for all of us. With her Mockingjay pin to say why I still lived and who I fought for.

"Hey there," I whispered to a little Mockingjay, pecking a branch above me, "Could you fly away to District 11 for me? Tell Thresh's family how he is, what he's doing for me. Tell my folks I love them. And tell them joy is so strong, even the Games can't kill it easy." My new friend tilted his head to listen. Then he flitted off, as a sponsor package dropped between the branches.

–0–

As I slipped back through the tree canopy to where Peeta was at, I felt real edgy, like someone was watching close by. I dropped a bundle behind me, not looking too deliberate or too careless. There was some cold grousling and berries in there, as well as some important things I won't say about just now. But I kept heading on to the river. I sneaked down to the cave where I'd dragged Peeta before, and unhid the opening carefully.

"Heya. I'm home." I gave Peeta a big smile. From the sleeping bag in back, the blonde boy looked up with dark-rimmed eyes. He saw Katniss's pin on my chest, but didn't say anything.

"Rue. You were gone too long. I'm really glad you're safe." But he didn't sound like he could be glad about anything.

"I had to hide on the way back. I gave Thresh the weapons, and I think he's with us now." Peeta nodded, not asking where Thresh was. Since he'd seen his sweetheart gone up in the sky, the poor boy hadn't shown he cared much about anything. Not even the leg wound, that was sapping his body's life, as sure as his grief.

I changed his dressings, smiling and telling him he had to fight, like I think Katniss would've done. I fed him the broth from the Sponsor package, and tried to talk about the interviews with our families, or his friends back home, but he didn't say much. Then I went out and came back with some edible plants; we'd both ate enough to stay alive, but not by much. As I heated up a nettle and mugwort stew with rocks from the sunny riverbank, I sang quietly;

_All good things around us,_

_Are sent from heaven above,_

_And thank the Lord, Oh, thank the Lord,_

_For all his love…_

"You've got a beautiful voice, Rue. What's that song about?" Peeta muttered thickly. I felt happy just to hear him.

"It's about God. He made all the good things in the world, and shows he cares for us that way, like a Father, whatever happens."

"That's how you can still be cheerful, right?"

"Because I got to be. It ain't easy, but God helps. Especially singing about Him."

"Oh….maybe that's why Katniss couldn't be happy. She always got angry first."

"No! Katniss wasn't unhappy! We were happy together, why was she sad…?"

As he propped himself up, Peeta's face was sour milk, "Sorry, Katniss wouldn't have talked about the past. I guess I've just had nothing else to think on for days, I shouldn't…"

"Tell me!"

"Her father died in a mine explosion when she was eleven. Her mother didn't cope very well, so Katniss supported herself and her sister for five years. She was alone, so she had to be strong as oak, and rely on herself. She never relied on anyone else. She was a brave, beautiful spirit. But she could barely let her heart open up to anybody, before…Rue, if Katniss was happy with you, before the end, then _thank you_–"

I threw myself at Peeta. I couldn't do anything some while but cry in his arms like a baby.

"Oh, Katniss! Oh Peeta, you really loved her, didn't you?"

"Since I was five. " his tears were silent, trailing down his dirty face. "I'd have given all my limbs to save her."

"I'm so sorry...when'd you know you loved her? Think how she was, just then."

"First day of school. She was a little girl with two braids. She sang the Willow Song in class, the Mockingjays stopped to listen, I was gone. She just had the voice of a pure soul, as if nothing in the whole world could break her or stop her singing."

"I think she was always singing, but it was silent. A song of strength and love...her love was like fire, and it spread me like a true burning life. Oh, we couldn't ever have helped loving her."

"But I never did anything that mattered, all those years. I never made her happy! I could never tell her–!"

"You told the whole nation you loved her!"

"But she didn't believe me!" Peeta fell back, helpless regret twisting his face, "She thought I was looking for Sponsors."

I hoped everyone in the Capitol was dying from shame, as I searched for an answer.

"Peeta…my Mama always said how girls shouldn't fall in love so quick. They want to let their boy come after them, and prove he's really in love. And you proved it, you got this wound saving Katniss from the Careers! I should've told you already...before she went, she said your name."

(I'd left some things out, and never really believed my Mama on boys–I'd always dreamed of being swept away with passion. But I had to say something to comfort him).

Peeta turned away. Then he squeezed my hand, stared back right in my eyes.

"When I was reaped, I decided something, Rue. I'd do something to show them who I was, and that they can't control me. Even if they kill me. I'll help you win the Hunger Games, Rue, for Katniss."

"For Katniss."

Peeta finally showed his old smile, as fire seemed to roar in my chest. I was fighting for Katniss, in her place. I was fighting beside the boy who'd loved her. His pale face was so perfectly-shaped, and his eyes were so kind. So blue like cooling waters. I was so close I nearly kissed him, but a deep cough made me spring back. Thresh was crouched in the cave mouth, looking like a big bear in the dusk.

"Thresh–!" Then I saw the knife in his hand, the big one that curved the wrong way. Peeta tried dragging himself in front of me, as Thresh edged towards us.

"Don't worry, Rue. Here to keep you safe. Heard Twelve say he would too–but tell me why I should believe you." He'd turned his gaze on Peeta, "She ain't your sweetheart. Ain't even your district partner."

"She's twelve. I just want to protect her. And I want to prove to _them_ they don't control me, I'm not a piece in their games. That's why I swore I'd protect Katniss, I'd do anything–"

"And what did you do?"

Peeta bowed his head. "I won't lie. I joined the Career pack to lead them away from her. I even helped them kill the girl from eight. All for Katniss...but I know it still wasn't right, and you can see what I got for it." A stab from his leg made Peeta hiss. I held him, touching his cheek to look straight in his eyes.

"At least you tried, Peeta. You did something." I shot a glance as Thresh. His face was sealed shut, but his eyes were scary.

"You should go out a minute, Rue." His voice held anger now, I couldn't stop looking at the knife.

"Thresh, no!"

"It's okay," Peeta shut his eyes, "I understand. Just end it."


	5. An Alliance

**The Present. 74th Hunger Games: Day 11**

I had my slingshot, a few stones in my pack–they'd not even slow Thresh down. I could just stare into his eyes, in the second when all of us were still. Peeta, stretched out white-faced in the darkness. Thresh, crouched inside the cave mouth. Me, stood between them.

I saw Thresh glance away, just for an instant. I took a big breath.

"NO! Peeta, you said you'd protect me, that means you stay alive! Katniss, she'd never let you give up that easy! Thresh! You said you didn't want to play! Well, killing a sick boy sure looks like playing the Hunger Games to me! Whatever he did, he's sorry–you kill him and you'll be sorry too." I couldn't stop my voice cracking, tears bursting out my eyes, but I kept them on Thresh, "I couldn't live if Peeta was dead, and you killed him. Thresh. Please."

"Why? He half-dead, sparing him won't do no good!"

"Helping me didn't do Katniss Everdeen no good. She must've known only one of us could survive, and I'd likely be more trouble than anything. But she still healed my wounds, shared her food–she slept next to me, like you did, Thresh. And she got herself killed to save me. So I went to find her sweetheart, and help him, whatever I had to do. I'm not letting you kill Peeta now."

"Don't wanna kill him, Rue." Thresh lowered his head, shaking it slowly, "But could kill us if I don't!"

"I know! That's the price of caring for folk, the way Jesus cared for us and gave His life. I know it ain't easy, Thresh. But I know He made you a strong man. He'll give you strength."

Thresh's head came up. He stared at me so hard I nearly fell over, but somehow I kept gazing my heart at him, through flooding tears. Then he shook his head, put the knife in his belt. His words came out with force like a tiny stream wearing its path through stone.

"Times like these, seems too tough to trust anybody. Seems I can't even trust myself–but no matter what, we can still trust God. We gotta. Took a little girl to tell me, again. I'm sorry, Rue. I ain't gonna make you cry no more."

"Thresh–" I was so glad, I hopped lightly in, and kissed his lips, "...um, thanks!"

"Don't mention it. Hey Rue, where's your Tribute Token? Your grass necklace?"

"That's a surprise." I grinned. He shook his head, wryly.

"Sorry, Rue." Peeta sat up behind me, "And I think Katniss saved you because you're the purest soul in these Hunger Games, the most innocent out of all of us. Thresh...?" Peeta raised a shaky hand. I pushed Thresh into taking it, before scuttling off to check on the nettle soup, exhausted and pretty embarrassed.

Inside ten minutes Peeta had got Thresh to talk about his family–he even_ laughed_, once. But Peeta did have a real talent for making friends. I'd had one once, when I'd had normal friends. But I couldn't dream of where the fine speechifying I'd given Thresh had come from. It was like something had gone hard and desperate in me since Katniss had died, like a sword rising up from a swamp.

But I didn't feel strong now, just worried for Peeta. Thresh was my Partner, and really a good boy, but I might always be scared of him. Peeta still had an angel's smile now, and all his kind words warmed me up, like a fire inside. He was even trying to hide his leg, but I knew without medicine he might not last the night.

Staring out of the cave as it start to raining, I thought about Billy Joe Ewell, nearly for the first time in the Games. Maybe he was watching me, with Jess, Ginny and all my sibs and friends. Holly and Jim would've been cheering at all my escapes. I knew Pet would've forced herself to watch, however scary it got. When I went back–no, I still couldn't imagine that. Would I climb trees again with joy, instead of fear? Would I sing out the quitting-time tune like before, and be among everyone who loved me, when I'd watched folk die–even killed them myself?

My folks would've definitely been watching all I'd done. Watched me staying alive, as Katniss died. Killing the boy from One. Ignoring every warning Mama gave me.

–0–

**The Present. 74th Hunger Games: day 12**

After a bit, I thought how silly I was to mope–two wonderful boys had promised to protect me. Another Sponsor package dropped outside the cave with some bread and meat, so I made a few sandwiches while the boys talked.

"What kind of work did you do at home, Thresh?"

"Last three years, I harvest more grain and rice for the Capitol than anyone in my hometown. They gave me medals." Thresh's face was unmoving, only his words were a little bitter.

"You really care for your family, right?"

"Yeah, I was working for them." _Not the Capitol_, none of us need to say aloud, "Or that's what I told myself."

"Huh?"

"Truth is, my folks slaved till they were too sick to work, and never stopped working. Saw them waste away myself. Guess I figured after that, I was my own man, and I had to get strong as I could, so that I'd never get that weak. So maybe all the works I ever did were just for myself. Like hiding away in the cornfield, on my own. Couldn't do any good on my own." Thresh fell silent after more words than I'd ever heard him say; evidently they meant a lot to him.

"Kinda know what you mean." Peeta looked even paler than an hour ago, "I thought doing everything for Katniss was the best thing I could do for myself. And I believe that if I'd only fought for me, I would be suffering even more, now."

"Too right, it don't work. Only works if we do it all for God."

A twist of sadness finally crossed Thresh's face. I had to hug him, and say it was better to get it late than never. We held hands, Peeta too, and had a little prayer God would keep us safe tomorrow, before we bunked down.

The rain poured through the whole night. It was colder than the horribly cold nights at the start of the Games, but Thresh gave me the silvery blanket he'd got from a Sponsor, so I was okay .Peeta and me could still never have slept if we weren't so beat though. Thresh stayed awake and took both our watches. But I was half-dozing in the small hours when a thin shadow slid from the dark outside, like water into a pit. She edged for the heap of packs between us, until Thresh leapt up like a cat and seized her arm.

"Thresh–!" I cried out. Peeta moaned in his sleep.

"Just listen a minute! I don't even have a weapon–" As the girl reached for her pocket, Thresh knocked her away, and searched it himself. The Tribute's hood got thrown back in the scuffle, disgorging the red bunches and pale skin of the girl from Five, Foxface.

"What this?"

From her pocket, Thresh had pulled a bit of wood with '5' carved on it. A bronze coin on a string, with '12' scratched in it. And my own grass and wooden necklace that I'd scratched with '11'. Before I'd put all those things in with the bundle of food I'd left behind in the forest yesterday, when I'd sensed that the girl from Five was tailing me.

"I believe those things are yours?" Foxface stared at me, with her narrow and wild eyes. She was soaked, starving, and desperate, but seizing onto hope with both paws and teeth.

"Yeah." I glanced at Thresh, "Peeta gave me his token yesterday, I left his and my tokens with some food, for a message to her she could come to us. She doesn't have food, Thresh. Same as Peeta, I don't want her killed, I want to do everything for her I can."

"Hang on–!"

"Do you have a plan to take out the District Two Tributes?" Foxface cut in, "I believe I have four. All three of us would need to risk our lives, though."

"Three? No!"

"It's okay, Thresh. Without a plan, all of us die. They win."

Thresh stared at my eyes, big in the darkness, and sighed wearily. My Pa had shown the same face when he found the fox cub my sister Holly had raised in the outhouse. Whether he knew how things would end up, or he just couldn't stand to kill a girl, he was going to let her be.

"Come here," I held out my hands to Foxface, smiling, "Take a little food, try and rest. We'll talk about the plan in the morning."

Her fox-face was wary, as she clasped my hands a second. Then she gnawed up half a grousling leg in a few seconds, then she curled up under a blanket on the cave floor. I told Thresh he should get some sleep, but he wouldn't. He stayed sitting up, nearest the cave mouth. I saw his eyes were hard, and never moved off of Foxface's sleeping body. I'd only wanted to find and help her; I was surprised as anybody by her talk of plans. But I should've guessed no Tribute would live so long without being very strong, or very cunning.

–0–

Just after daybreak I was gathering berries in the forest, singing the John Henry song quietly. Then my third Sponsor package drifted down on its silver parachute. I pounced on it, and ended up with a little tub of smelly black syrup. Sleeping syrup. I wondered if it was for easing Peeta in his pain, and if his sponsors could possibly send medicine. Then I suddenly thought about what the Sponsors were really thinking.

_"Oh, we wept buckets when Katniss died_ (All the Girl on Fire fans would be saying), _but we were so glad when her plucky little ally swore to carry on her fight. Only, how can a tiny girl, who seems to help folk more than kill them, possibly win the Games and get our money back?"_

_"Obviously, by brains_ (the smarter Capitol folk would tell them). _She's allied with Peeta and Thresh for protection, until they kill the careers. And she's already playing on that simple fieldhand Thresh, with her sweet talk and innocent face. Playing on his pity, pride and funny religious notions, so that he'll kill himself to save her life._

_"Peeta dies from his leg or kills himself likewise _(They'd go on). _Foxface starves to death. And the innocent little Mockingjay girl with a viper's heart will live to enjoy her new riches, the first twelve year old victor in history."_

_"You sure got that right, good masters_ (Seeder and Chaff would pipe up, ready to say anything that would save me). _And, just in case Thresh thinks twice about offing himself, or even if our girl ain't rightly conscious of what she's doing, why don't you send her some sleeping syrup? Then she could just send Thresh or Foxface to sleep, and slit their throats like that?"_

The lie had brought the parachutes–helped keep me and the boys I loved alive. And it was barely a lie. When I'd gone to Thresh in the cornfield, I'd been ready to give my life to help him win. But then Peeta had told me to win for Katniss–and Katniss had told me to win. So my self-sacrificing resolve had broken. Thresh and Peeta were clearly ready to finish themselves, rather than kill me–I could tell from all they said, from the look in their eyes. My boys, so brave and good–I was filth for even thinking a second that I could win, if I just let them die.

Like I'd let Katniss die. I'd knew I'd killed the boy from One, killed the son of his parents'. But I couldn't stop feeling it was Katniss I'd killed, only I could hardly bear to feel it, not if I wanted to keep on moving. But I wouldn't have to hold that pain off much longer. I wasn't going to be tricking my friends, only my Sponsors.

Quickly, I hunted through the bushes near the river for a particular berry. The audience would probably think I meant to poison Foxface, Peeta and Thresh together. Even though Thresh would surely recognize Nightlock in anything. All the Capitol folk must've been chuckling how a simple knowledge of plants could be deadly as anything their fancy science could make.

Truth was, it was for me. I would help Thresh and Foxface defeat the Careers, the killers whose friend had murdered Katniss. It would best if I could die like Katniss did, to save my friends, so much better, but if that didn't happen, I'd swallow that Nightlock before anybody could do anything. If suicide was sin for me, it would be sin for Thresh. My parents might not even want me back, after all I'd done–in any case, they'd have one less mouth to feed. My sibs would survive. Thresh, or Peeta, would survive. And I'd be free of the Games that had killed my friend, and any innocence at all left in my heart.


	6. A choice

**The Past. Before the Games**

We were on the train. As home started slipping away, I couldn't help pressing my hands up against the window. Then the train began to fly and all the dark faces cotton-fields and shady trees got left behind us and vanished. I hadn't even seen my family, past the camera flashes–I already missed them so much it hurt, but I couldn't despair. I had to stay happy like Pa always said, if it could possibly be done.

My District Partner, Thresh, was still staring out the window at fallow fields. Mr Glick, the Escort, was reading some plastic thing with his legs crossed. The carriage was stuffed with cushions, carved oak and more mirrors than the whole District. But the silence was like all of us were already alone, in a silver dragon's stomach.

"Um, Thresh? Heya. I'm Rue Turner. Um, what do you like…?"

"Thinking. Quiet helps."

His voice was maybe as friendly as rock, but I forced a smile. He didn't even look, and I was ready to sing, scream or do anything, when our Mentors walked into the carriage.

Mr Chaff went straight for the drinks bar, while Mrs Seeder went to us. She was near-sixty, with light, olive-colour skin. She was smiling so nice I forgot to be afraid.

"Thresh. Rue. You 'll maybe feel better once you've ate. Yes, all that food is for you." There was a table between us covered in meat, fruit and strange squishy things but I just stared and fidgeted, afraid of the price any gift of the Capitol would surely have "You'll need to eat sometime, girl. Thresh?" My Partner finally looked away from the window.

"Ain't you gonna tell us how to win?" His voice was really so deep and rich with feeling, I almost wished he'd talk more.

"Well. Do you _want_ to win the Hunger Games?" Mrs Seeder smiled again, not so nicely. Thresh nodded, like it was a good question. I was going to say I didn't understand, but then Mr Chaff was looming above me in a cloud of drunken breath.

"Don't trouble the kids with grown-up talk yet, Seeder. Now–ain't you a peach? Quite the sweet little lady, with a couple years. Real shame."

I was real scared. The moonshine back home was only good for killing feeling and thought when they hurt too much. I'd seen what drink did to ordinary folk, and this was a Victor. His one hand moved for my hair, I jerked back–

"Mr Chaff." Thresh stood up, muscles shifting like stones in a sack, "You bothering her."

"Sit down, boy. Have a drink, while you got the chance."

"It's a sin to be drunk, or didn't your Mamma teach you?"

"Alright." Chaff grinned, not with his eyes, "Then you can pray they finish you off quick, and the girl too, instead of putting on a show–"

It was all so fast, but Chaff was ready. He caught Thresh's fist, sunk a knee in his face, and wrapped his arm about Thresh's neck until he groaned.

"Surprised?" He grated in Thresh's ear, "Kid as big as you, bet you never had to even use your fists before. Reckon you'll be dead in the Bloodbath, before they can say 'dumb muscle'…."

"Stop it!" I cried out to Chaff, "We shouldn't fight each other!"

"'Shouldn't fight each other?'" Chaff laughed wildly, "Honey, this is the Hunger Games–"

Then Thresh roared out, surging up like a bronco from Ten. By pure strength he flung Chaff backward against the bar. The Victor's flailing arm knocked bottles to the floor. Then Thresh swung about, ready to beat Chaff to paste, until Mrs Seeder stepped between them.

"That's enough, boy!" I wouldn't have stood in Thresh's path myself, no more than the train's, but he stopped dead like her words were a whip.

"Huh." Chaff was really grinning now, "Reckon we'll get on fine kid."

"I'll take the cleaning bill from your stipend as usual, Chaff." Mr Glick grated. He hadn't even looked up at the fight, like it was nothing at all. It'd scared me awful–but it _was_ nothing at all, compared to twenty-four kids fighting until one was left. How would I ever face that?

"I see at least your folks raised you proper," Seeder was telling Thresh.

"My Grandma, Mrs Seeder, but she sure did."

"I'm sorry. However, you ain't winning the Games if you ain't ready to strike a woman. There'll be fine blonde ladies from One. Killers that look like snivelling waifs. Little girls, sobbing how they don't want to die. You gotta be ready to kill them all, if you want to win. Every single one."

I burst into tears. I wanted Mama to hold me, tell me to be strong. But there was just Mrs Seeder, standing and watching me, not smiling.

"There'll be girls like this one," She whispered to Thresh, "Don't look away."

Thresh stared at me. Her stared back at Seeder, and very nearly struck her right then, only Chaff grabbed his arm.

"Cool it, kid," He hissed, "Seems you ain't such a Momma's boy, huh? Seems like you got some fight."

Thresh looked so bewildered and miserable then, I stopped crying. I walked over and stood between him and Seeder, glaring up at her cold, dark eyes. She smiled.

"Looks like both of them got some fight, Chaff."

"This is a test, ain't it?" all my fear was turning to fury, "You're both of you bullying us, seeing if we'll fight back. Seeing if trying to save our lives is even worth your bother. Well, you leave Thresh alone. We're going to survive these games, for District Eleven, and to show you we can. Because you ain't even Elevens no more, are you? You're Capitol folk."

Mr Glick gave a low whistle. I though Seeder would slap me, but she smiled instead, and knelt down. She put her hands on my shoulders.

"Chaff and me are Elevens, Rue, but we survived the Hunger Games. Not many Elevens have done that. In forty years I've seen Tributes that were strong, fast smart. But most of them were dead before they stepped off the platforms, because they didn't _believe_ they could win. Sweating their lives out in the fields every day, getting beaten down and lashed, none of them learn anything but to suffer and lose, and bear it. They didn't none of them have the killer instinct."

"Reckon I could kill, I had to." Thresh muttered, glaring at Chaff.

"Ain't good enough. You can't just kill a few kids and die, you have to ready to kill all of them. You'll have to kill, betray and lie and throw out every hope of heaven, if you want to win the Hunger Games. You have to _choose_ that, and do whatever it takes. If you don't want that–" Suddenly, her old, nice smile was back, "–then that's fine. We'll sit down and eat, and make your last week alive the best we can."

"Eat and drink, for tomorrow we die." Chaff offered. Tribute and Victor, it was obviously his only scripture.

"I'm not going to do anything bad, Mrs Seeder." I held my voice level, "But I'm going to survive."

"Can't survive unless you win, girl."

"That's my choice, Mrs Seeder. I'm going to survive. I'm going to do whatever it takes." I understood what Mama had told me now. For her sake, and everyone's, I had to do my best to get back alive. But for their sake and mine, and the Lord's, I had to keep hold of myself and do what was right.

Chaff just stared at me. Looking back, I think Thresh suddenly looked relaxed, like he'd decided what he'd do as well. Seeder smiled wryly.

"Okay. Let's eat, before we talk about how you'll survive. Sorry about all that, Rue."

"Don't bully next year's Tributes then." I wasn't forgiving that easy.

I ate so much I felt sick all that day, and wrapped up quite a lot in napkins for dinner. I noticed Seeder hardly ate anything. Thresh didn't have much appetite either. As we headed to our rooms, he told me he was sorry he'd lost it so bad.

"Never knew I could get so mad before. You shouldn't've had to see such things. I'm sorry."

I said it was fine. But really, I was scared to share a train with him, let alone the Arena.

–0–

I spent most of the Tribute parade up on my tiptoes with both eyes bugged out. I'd have felt funny waving or smiling at folks who'd come to see me die, though some of the Careers were doing that. But I couldn't help staring about with my mouth a little open.

I'd never seen colours anywhere like the ones that filled the stands, or such fine horses as pulled us down the street. I'd barely seen such a crowd of people except on Reaping Day, and never such a crowd that was grinning and whooping like mad folk. I'd never seen such buildings either, like glass mountains covered in fancy stonework or suchlike. Even the dress I got to wear after all the trouble of the Remake Centre felt smooth like silk. And it was a lovely blue like the sky, though I could barely see the Capitol's skies behind all the giant buildings.

The place smelt a bit like a factory exhaust as well, and there wasn't a tree or open space I could see, anywhere. Not a single flower. It was strange how the Capitol folk had money enough for anything, but didn't trouble to have anything living or lovely. More than that, the Capitol didn't have my family there. Nothing's so good in the world as being near to somebody you love.

More than anything in the Capitol, I wanted to see Katniss Everdeen. I'd watched the Twelve Reaping, where she'd volunteered for her little sister, started thinking she could maybe be a good person. But that was the first time I saw her for real. Stood straight up in her chariot, still and ready like a hawk. Then the blonde boy from Twelve took her hand, just like her boyfriend–his eyes looked so tender, I thought if he wasn't her boyfriend I'd eat a cottonbale. I was still staring at them both when the flames burst out their clothes, and I would've fallen off the chariot if Thresh hadn't caught me.

"Whoa! Um, thanks!"

He mumbled that it was nothing, as I realised how fast my heart was going, and what a big smile I had. Maybe Chaff had been a bit right, though my Pa had said it better. While I was still alive I'd keep on being happy, and drinking in every joyous or beautiful thing the Lord sent.


	7. A Problem

**The Past. 74th Hunger Games: Training Days**

In the evening, me, Thresh and the Mentors had dinner with the Prep team, in our apartment–more like our prison, however big and white the rooms were. My stylist was a very young man with curly blonde hair. He paced about, while I tried to eat less than on the train, waving his hands like a windmill. I'd asked Seeder if all the stylists were like him, she'd said, pretty much.

"I thought you were _marvellous_ in the Parade, Rue. The sense of of wide-eyed innocence…like a little fairy princess. I'm seeing you as pure, delicate fairy, beyond every sorrow of this tragic world–" Heads turned as Thresh burst out laughing, "_Excuse_ me?"

"Fairy? She an Eleven, got soil in her blood. Smiles when she happy, eat when she hungry, cry when she sad. As much of a fairy as _me_."

"Hey, Rue." Seeder's voice was quiet, "What's your favourite thing?" I said music, without hesitating. "Then sing for us, please."

I stood up. My voice wobbled, but then I lost myself in singing. In the true world that ought to be; the lovely place where singing with spirit takes me.

_Why should I feel discouraged?_

_Why should the shadows come?_

_Why should my heart be lonely?_

_And long for my dear home?_

_When Jesus is my portion,_

_My constant friend is He._

_His eye is on the sparrow_

_And I know he watches me._

_I sing because I'm happy_

_I sing because I'm free._

_For His eye is on the sparrow_

_And I know He watches me…_

When I finished, I saw Thresh was looking like he'd never looked on me before. Like a single look wasn't enough for him.

"That was…so _divine_!" The Stylist wiped his eyes. "I promise I'll make you lots of beautiful dresses! Everyone will see that you should have a chance to live!"

"You do that, Carollius," Seeder murmured, "Rue, keep the sweet and innocent ready for your interview. Rule One, get noticed. Get the Sponsors you need to survive."

Something twisted inside me. Mama had warned me not to do anything wrong, even for my life. If I played a dear little moppet for Capitol women to squeal over, wouldn't I be playing along with their twisted game? And what would they want from me next?

"Mrs Seeder, maybe I don't need Sponsors. I'm good at finding food, and used to being hungry, or cold–"

"That so? What did you do in training today?"

"Played on the climbing nets and monkey bars. It was real fun, and you said about getting noticed."

"True, but don't forget Rule Two. Don't get noticed."

"Huh?"

"You showed every Tribute you can climb like a squirrel. They'll have guessed you plan on hiding up a tree–but you'll be starting the games right beside them. Regular Tributes mightn't kill a twelve-year-old, not on day one. But the Careers don't care about that. If they target you in the Bloodbath–you're dead.

"Well, I'm fast too. If I run–"

"–If you run without getting a pack. With no blanket, no iodine tablets. Then you'll be dead within days, girl, unless you got Sponsors to send what you need."

"But you told me I needed allies. You said, I'd have to show them I wasn't a burden..."

"Show me. You've got to show yourself off, without showing yourself; I'll leave you to figure that one out." Seeder gave me a hard stare, as she picked a little meat off her plate. I didn't feel so good no more. "At least you've learnt Rule One, Two and Zero. Rule Zero being, don't trust anybody."

That was when Thresh said a bad word, and threw a glass at the wall.

"Women, huh?" Chaff stood up as Thresh did, "You better learn to never get fooled by them, boy."

"Guess she's a Mentor. Not a useless drunk."

"Well then, let's do some Mentoring. Keep looking big and scary, don't talk more than needed. Don't touch the wrestling or boxing stations, so no one sees how you never needed to fight before now. We'll spend evenings practising those together. How about it?"

Thresh followed Chaff out the room. Inside a second, there were crashes and grunts from a very destructive fight.

"Huh. Boys." Seeder grinned at me. I barely managed to grin back, longing for my dear home already.

–0–

I spent that next morning sneaking among the climbing frames and heaps of weapons, getting a look at all the Tributes. Mostly they were normal kids, drifting round the grey cubicles with closed-up faces, trying to look tough. Underneath I was sure they were missing their families and scared of dying, just like me.

I could spot the Careers; they didn't look afraid. They laughed as they swung blades about, eyeing the others like foxes looking on a flock of grousling. I had to remember they were kids too. They surely had families who loved them–could've volunteered for their families' sakes, like Katniss.

But her grey eyes weren't cruel, or closed. They flickered over all about her, wary without hardness, strong in herself. As she crouched by the snare station to knot two ropes, I couldn't see a bit of fear in her looks. Just from watching her, I was barely afraid myself, almost excited, like the fire from her dress had caught in me. The Games weren't weighing on her like the rest. I was sure no horror _they_ might bring could ever cage her spirit; just like the lovely gold Mockingjay on her shirt.

But she never seemed to talk with anyone. Some of the other Tributes were trying to chat a little, but Katniss seemed set apart. She only smiled for her Partner, but not so often–and if Billy Joe had ever looked at me like I saw Peeta gaze after her, I'd _skip_. I was sure Katniss had a wealth of smiles for the little sister she'd volunteered for. But this wasn't where her sister was, this was the Hunger Games. She surely wouldn't–_shouldn't_–let a scared Eleven stop her getting home to her sister alive.

So I just kept my distance, warming myself faintly from her courage and strength. I knew how Mockingjays flit off into the sky away from anyone they didn't know and trust. I think she caught me watching her, once or twice, but she never tried talking to me. If I'd tried talking with Katniss, and she'd pushed me away, I'm sure I'd have fallen to pieces. I needed to hope for her smile–that she'd comfort and help me like a big sister, the only one in this terrible place who could. I had to believe in her. I had to make myself trust Thresh; he was my Partner, all I had left of home. But he was too silent to be much comfort. Like he didn't believe that any words in the world would help us. As for the other Tributes, they were too scared or blustering for me to sense any kindness there. Mama and Mrs Seeder had both told me not to trust them, and I'm ashamed to say that I didn't try speaking to one.

So I sat on the end of a table at the meals, getting more and more lonesome in a crowd of people. Back home I'd be telling Jim to not spill his food, telling Holly about the best spots for gathering, or helping Mama clean up the baby. Or at school, I'd be talking with Jessie about the birds we both loved, or we'd listen to Ginny going on about the Mayor's daughter's new dress. My folks always said I was a girl who'd never want for friends, but now they were gone, and all my friends too, even my sibs. I felt like my voice was bound in silence just like my body was in prison.

I couldn't go back, but I wanted to, so much. I wanted to rest in sunny trees with my Mockingjay friends. Then sprint down the dusty road home until Pa scooped me up in his arms. I wanted to see old Mr Hayseed the village pastor, like we always did every Sunday, and hear him say once more and again how the Lord's our help in times of trouble. I was praying every night and morning to God that he'd tell me what to do, how I might live. I'd just got back that I should stay happy like Papa said, not do anything wrong, like Mama said, and just have faith that He'd see me through. But as the silenct, lonesome days went on it got harder to be cheerful or brave. Harder to even hear Him say anything at all.

–0–

More than anything, I wanted Katniss to notice me as an ally (I wished we could be friends, but in a death game that couldn't be). I had to show her my skills without showing the Careers. Pretty simple, really, but I didn't do it until the third day. Mama and Pa had told me not to, I'd said I was sorry for stealing before…but I'd had to get food for Albert and Pet. Even if it was a little wrong, I thought I had to do it, if I wanted to ever see Mama and Pa again.

I watched Cato, the Two Career, whenever his partner Clove wasn't around. I saw him put the knife aside that he'd used to stab a dummy right through, and then wander off to get some other weapon. The boy from Four was on the station, but he was watching the pretty girl from One. In a shake of a lamb's tail, I'd snatched up the knife Cato had left, hopped onto a table, then onto a wall between Knives and Swords, and to the rafters in a single jump.

When Cato came back, he got real mad with the boy from Four. I would've been terrified of him looking up and seeing me, but Katniss had noticed what I'd done. Her dark eyes held a hint of admiration, but then I put a finger to my mouth, and she smiled. If I had to die here, I felt I could die in peace now, because I wasn't alone. Katniss had smiled like she cared about me, and I smiled back with joy in my heart.

(Cato killed the Four boy in the Bloodbath. I told myself he'd been a Career, a murderer like Cato was. It had been a bit wrong, but not real murder, and I'd finally done something so I'd live).

–0–

I sort of fell in love with my interview dress. It was lighter and smoother than I'd thought fabric could be; it almost floated around my body. With the little wings like a butterfly angel, I felt like I could get up on my toes, and flit up and away through the air. Away from the Capitol, and everything in it. For a minute, I wasn't scared at all, wearing that dress. But Mrs Seeder said I should look a little scared, so the Sponsors would feel protective.

"Remember it's not faking, because you are scared, ain't you? You've just been pretending you ain't, like everyone pretends. Remember out there, you're a little scared, but still plucky and courageous anyway. And so innocent, even butter wouldn't melt in your mouth." Then she had to tell me what butter was. "I tell you give them a song, but you won't have time for anything but questions. So give them a song for your victory interview."

"Mrs Seeder! You don't think…?"

"Stealing that knife, you convinced me, girl. With Two going after Four in the Bloodbath, you'll have every chance of getting away. Pure genius."

"Um, I just wanted Katniss to notice me."

"Oh, you really are innocent, girl." Seeder gave me her kind, motherly smile, "You know if Twelve does win the Games, she'll most likely end up just like me in fifty years?" I didn't want to imagine it. "But I can't see you going that way, Rue. You've got a real beauty and gentleness in you. I don't believe even the Games will take that, however they fall out."

"Mrs Seeder–"I pressed into her, and she hugged me gently, so my dress wasn't damaged. She really did still have a caring heart in her, somehow.

"Just do one thing for me Rue?" I nodded gladly, "Don't say anything in your interview about District Eleven, or your family–you'll seem like a human instead of a fairy. And please don't say anything about God. The Capitol folk don't go in for such things at all. Please, Rue. You ought to have a chance."

I nodded again. Not realising then how she'd played me like a tune.

* * *

So on interview night, I waited in the wings with all the silent kids in pretty clothes. Finally I went onto the stage, in front of the famous Mr Flickerman, and the horribly glaring lights. All the hundreds of audience in the darkness went hushed together when I appeared. My heart soared. I stepped forward lightly.

It really seemed quite magical. With so many eyes giving me so much attention, it was real wonder and awe that made my own eyes so wide. Somehow I wasn't alone, but still apart from these folk with their violent wantings. Out of their world, like a real fairy; every step I took was ready for leaping up into a tree, into the sky. Somewhere there was my home, and the apple trees I loved to climb; somewhere there was a horrible game of death. But in this show full of laughter and soft fabrics, neither place seem any more real than a dream.

I knelt on the interview chair, back straight, looking up. Instead of my accustomed grin, a little ladylike smile. I told the nation how amazed I was with the Capitol and all their wonders. How I had skills I would use to survive, to give the audience lots of fun. I was a little scared, a little cheeky. I did everything to get those cooing, gaudy folk on my side, short of thanking them for coming to watch me get slaughtered. I played the sweet little fairy they wanted for their Game, just like Mama had told me not to. But I'd even do a little wrong, for a chance to see her again. A dangerous course, but there was nothing but danger in the Hunger Games.

I still felt pretty low and guilty when it was over, especially watching Thresh go up in his lovely white suit. He barely said a word, whatever Mr Flickerman asked, and I knew it wasn't an angle. It was him, not playing the Games. I knew the Careers had tried to ally with him, and he'd said no. I might have a flighty sort of energy, but Thresh was solid as a mountain; he'd held the right way better than me. I just hoped, whatever happened in the Games, that I didn't let myself do any more wrong than I had.


	8. A Feast

**The Present. 74th Hunger Games: Day 13**

An hour after Mr Templesmith announced the Feast next morning, Thresh, Foxface and me trekked up to the middle of the arena. The wide clearing around the big gold cornahorn-thingy looked so still, in the gloom before dawn. The three of us searched the forest south of the horn, real careful; I even shimmed up a tall tree to search the forest with night-seeing goggles; nothing to see. I whistled the four notes, climbed down, and went quietly to our meeting spot on the clearing's edge. Foxface was already crouched there; I smiled at her, but she only stared at me.

"You okay?"

"Suppose so. What about you? You're not worried I might take this chance to backstab you?"

"Nope. I guess I can't get by without trusting folk, in spite of what everyone said. I couldn't have lived without it. And we couldn't all be going after the Twos like we are." And we both knew if Foxface hurt me, Thresh would kill her, "So you trust me, right?"

"If you trust me, yes. Cooperation towards our mutual goal is quite rational. It's just that humans can be decidedly irrational under extreme stress."

"Where d'you get to talk like that?" I grinned, "What'd you do back home?"

"I went to school?" We didn't say much more until Thresh showed up, spear in hand. None of us had seen Clove or Cato; the forest south of the horn was clear.

Silently, Foxface nipped across the clearing to hide in the horn itself. Thresh vanished into the forest with one last steadying look. I wanted to hug him, but I think he wanted to get the parting over quick. Then I hunkered under a bush and watched for the dawn, shivering. I was alone, again and I felt sick already with loneliness, worry and guilt.

I wondered if Katniss had hid near here to watch the Careers with their supplies. But it was too sad to think of her in those dark hours of waiting. It was no better thinking of Peeta or Thresh, when they might end like Katniss before noon, and I'd never see them again.

But the worst was thinking of Clove. One time in training, the District Three girl had come up to me at lunch, said she was so scared she needed to talk to me. I was going to pour out how scared I really was. How I wanted to be brave, and to help her be brave too, but then I noticed Clove, watching us.

A few of the worst Peacekeepers back in Eleven had eyes like Clove's. So terribly understanding, seeing every fear and weakness I had, and _revelling _in them. Her Partner's eyes might've burned like a mad dog in his rages, but no animal ever had eyes so cruel as Clove's were. After that, I wouldn't talk to the District three girl no more. Seeming pitiful would just make me a target for slow, showy death.

I wasn't afraid for myself no more; I'd accepted I wasn't going to live. But it got so hard to think of Cato and Clove as children, instead of just killers. So hard to be sorry that we were going to try and kill them, only because they'd kill us if we didn't.

–0–

Dawn finally came, glinting off the golden horn, and spreading over the open grass. I remembered it was the last dawn I might ever see, and almost cried to think of home, but I stayed still and quiet where I was. A sweet dawn chorus of birds piped up all around. That gave me some strength.

Then the fancy white table rose out of the ground, right in the open next to the horn. Four backpacks on there, all black and pretty big. One would be what we desperately needed the medicine to save Peeta…strange feverish excitement shot through me, as Foxface darted out of the Cornucopia.

She seized two bags off the table, slung one on her shoulders, and ran for the trees, toward me. Almost at once, a dark figure sprinted out the northern treeline, knife already glinting from her hand in the sunrise. That was when I stood up, said the quickest prayer, and dashed out into the clearing.

* * *

**The Past. 74th Hunger Games: Day 12**

The three of us–Peeta spent a lot of that day passed out–had started talking plans that morning. Foxface looked edgy, but talked with a nervous energy, quick and certain.

"Both the Twos are trained killers. If you're going to defeat them, Thresh, it'll have to be one at a time, and by surprise. How much practice have you had with that?" She jerked her head at the bow and arrows. Thresh said he'd had a bit, "Then I'd only use the bow if they see you first; it might shock them. But if you see them first, you can't risk missing the shot."

"So what, then?"

"We have certain advantages. The Careers don't know we're working together. Do they know you've left the cornfield?"

"Nearly ran into them yesterday in the forest. But I let them follow me back to the cornfield. Then I went a way round south and came up the river; so they never saw me come here."

"Excellent! It seems as if you've got plentiful brains, as well as that very visible brawn." She gave Thresh a suddenly confident, very grown-up kind of smile. He was surprised as me, but didn't smile himself. "The best plan is for Rue and I to show ourselves to the Careers, maybe under the pretext of stealing food. If we provoke them sufficiently, they'll split up to chase us, and give you, Thresh, a chance to ambush Cato. He's as big as you so it's vital you surprise him; you'll have to take him on first."

"What about Peeta?" I asked, "What about the one Clove goes after?"

"If we could hang on until he's recovered, then good. But we can plan for h, just in case. As for Clove, I've got some ideas…" Thresh and me both listened. We agreed it sounded crazy, but we had to try something, so we'd do it.

Foxface's head flicked nervously between us in the silence, before she went on.

"Can I clarify something? If we really do defeat the Twos…I think we ought to finish this fairly and rationally, by drawing lots. How about it?"

"Draw straws for a Victor?" Thresh glared at Foxface, then me.

"She's risked her life to help us," I butted in; "Doesn't she need some kind of chance?"

"Alright." Thresh let his breath out, "Guess we owe you. Only my straw would be for Rue."

"Thresh..." There it was. I had the Nightlock, I had to play along for now, and hide what I meant to do with them.

"So would mine." We all stared at Peeta; he'd woken up without us seeing.

"Peeta, it don't matter you're ill, the Capitol could make you better–" He looked away, and I fell silent.

"So…three straws against one?" I think my eyes showed some pleading as Foxface stared at me narrowly. Then she smiled again at Thresh. "Okay. So long as I have some chance, I can live with that. And I suppose small children ought to be protected."

"_Suppose?_ If you touch her–", Thresh started off.

"–you'd kill me; I understand. And that way you'd have a chance to win the Games. I'm not insinuating anything, I'm actually glad you've got a chance too, Thresh." She gave him another shining smile, "I think you...you don't deserve to die."

"None of us deserve to die."

"Except the Careers?"

"The murderers, huh? Yeah, they deserve to die. So I'm killing them. And then I'll be a murderer too."

Foxface fell silent, as Thresh stared out of the cave. All of us might never see such a bright blue sky again, but what he'd said had broken me up too much inside to even look.

I was a murderer. I'd tried not to think of the Four boy Cato kicked half to death and stabbed because I stole the knife.I'd tried telling myself that killing Marvel was self-defence, but he was nearly dead. I'd tried to forget, not to think, but I knew I'd driven that arrow home because, I hated Marvel then. Hated all the Careers for killing my dearest friend. I'd even helped Katniss drop that trackerjacker nest. I'd tried to forget their screams and writhing–oh, that had to be the most horrible way to die. And I'd killed all of them with fear, anger and hate. I had to be the most vile sinner in the world, and I ouht to die right now, but Thresh had seen my tears, and he was holding me. Rocking me back and forth, like Pa used to. I felt too bad to pray; the only thing I could cling to was he didn't want me to die.

–0–

When I'd calmed down a bit, the three of us went up to the woods South of the horn, to scout around, and prepare. Foxface got me to practise as much as I could for how she meant things to play out; she really was a smart girl. Getting chased through the trees by a ally almost felt like playing tag with friends back home. Almost, but fearful memories still crept in; when we stopped my hands were both trembling. Still, just walking through the beautiful forest, seeing flowers here and there, and not being on my own all helped.

When we got back to the cave, Peter was awake, looking worse than ever. He said he'd never felt so weak. After I'd changed his dressing, and seen the blood poisoning that would surely kill him before another noon, he started talking.

"Rue...I've had a lot of time to think. I've tried to make good thing, help everyone I could...but I don't think I did so well. Could you tell me about your God, the one you have in Eleven? Please?"

It was hard with the way I felt, and always hard to remember God in that Arena. But with a little help from Thresh I told Peeta all about God, who made the whole world, and made both right and wrong. Then about His son Jesus who died and came back to life. He lived somewhere called Israel, no one knows where it is; maybe it was what they called Panem before the Great Disasters. There used to be books called bibles all about God and Jesus, with all the good things He taught folk, but even before the Dark Days every single bible in Panem was destroyed. They say folk were afraid of them. Anyway, now the pastors in Eleven can just pass down all the scriptures of the bible from memory.

"...and, he said anyone who believes in Him will live forever in heaven...with all the wrong they ever did forgiven. You can pray, and say you trust Jesus, that what He did was enough to take all your wrongs away. And you can ask him to give you strength to be sorry for all those wrongs. And to not do wrong again, or love or worship anything else but our Father who made us. He said...we should come to him trusting and joyful as little children..." I couldn't go on. Thresh put an arm round my shoulder.

"And that's exactly different from the Hunger Games." He murmmured. He was right. Maybe Thresh had grown up into a man in the Arena, but all the childishness in me had been broken and crippled.

"...and he says we should forgive each other." I sniffed, "Be sorry, and forgive."

I could see that was hard for Peeta. Forgiving Marvel for killing Katniss, Cato for wounding him, the Capitol for putting them both in the Games. He got even paler, like a flickering candle, as we prayed together; I could only pray for Peeta, and his comforting. Finally, he opened his eyes, smiled like he was lying in a medow of flower, and said how good it was to get that burden off.

I wished now I'd prayed with Katniss before she died instead of just singing. But I had to believe the Lord always does right. It's funny though; Peeta had only just that week heard of God, and the Lord had given him forgiveness and mercy. Me and Thresh had believed all our lives, but we still needed His help to be sorry for what we'd done. To forgive the Careers and the Gamemakers, and not do anything from hatred. I wasn't there, but I could go on, remembering it was possible with God, there was forgiveness with Him, and that was my only hope. Even when He seemed so far away as in the Hunger Games.

* * *

**The Present. 74th Hunger Games: Day 13**

I ran towards the horn, to Foxface. She ran to me, with Clove behind her. The second I was close enough, she threw the pack in her arms to me. It hit my chest hard, and then Foxface cried out. Clove had flung a knife from over twenty feet, and slashed through her arm.

"Thanks for the meal, Two-girl!" I shouted. As Foxface took off like her tail was on fire, I ran back for that treeline even faster, fast as a sparrow in a hurricane. I didn't look back. But I could hear Clove's pounding feet behind.

"CATO! There's two! Running!" I caught Foxface vanishing into the trees south of the horn, dripping blood. I couldn't see anyone on her tail. But I hoped that soon Cato would be charging after her, to where Thresh was waiting for him.

We'd thought the boy from Two would be with his Partner, watching the horn. Maybe he was hunting Thresh near the cornfield. Foxface had said, if he wasn't at the horn, she'd run down to get the medicine from the feast to Peeta. Then come back with Thresh, to get Cato on his own. All that while I tried keeping one knife-crazy murderess occupied, without getting killed too soon.

I plunged into the forest south west of the horn, running flat out. I had to throw the pack away to lose weight; Clove kicked it out of path and raced after me. She was going flat out through the trees like me, too fast for knife-throwing. But I knew she'd fill my back with steel if I tried stopping to climb a tree–she was too close, getting closer all the time.

I could hear her rasps of breath, as my skin crawled with the dread of a knife. I was so scared, I could hardly breathe right. The burning in all my limbs got worse and worse. It took all my strength to keep running, all my wits not to trip and fall on a root or stick. But I kept flying along with her right behind, and finally dropped into an overgrown gully. I think Clove tried dashing round it, but I popped out the side and rolled under a hedge. She tried going through that, snarling in rage as thorns ripped her clothes and skin. If I couldn't fly away like a bird, I could be a rabbit instead. Just like Foxface planned, I dove through half-a-dozen hedges and thickets, pulling Clove through the dense branches every-which-way until she started screaming bad words after me.

"–just give up, you can't win, you little–!"

Then she dove into another thicket after me, and fell out the other side, all tangled up in a giant net. It had been Marvel's net and hanging it up with stones tied on for a simple trap had been another idea from Foxface's. Before clove had half-way finished cursing and cutting herself free, I'd scrambled up a great spreading tree. Gasping for breath among the top branches, I felt a twitch of joy rise up from my spirit.


End file.
